The world was already his. He just had to take it.

Damon Torrance sat at the pinnacle of the city’s underworld, heir to a legacy built on blood, secrets, and fear. Born into the Brooklyn's ruling family, he wasn’t just another name in the dark—he was the dark. A legacy etched into the backstreets and bones of Brooklyn, feared in every corner where power whispered and violence answered.

His friends—the Horsemen—stood beside him like shadows. Michael, the strategist with a wicked mind. Will, the one who could charm his way out of murder. And Kai, the quietest but deadliest of them all. They were feared, untouchable, kings of their world.

No one dared cross them. No one except her.

The past had a way of clawing back, even when buried deep. She had been the thorn in his side, the one person who never backed down, never cowered. But she had left years ago, sent away after that night. The night everything changed. Damon hadn’t thought about her in years. Didn’t care to.

She was gone. Out of his life.

Or so he thought.

The Catacombs were alive with music, the deep bass rattling against the walls, shaking through the marble floors. The pool glowed under the lights, bodies tangled together in the water, laughter echoing through the warm night air. Damon leaned back against the edge of a lounge chair, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, watching the scene unfold.

Girls whispered his name. Some stared, some touched, but none of them mattered.

"You're brooding," Michael muttered, sinking into the chair beside him, a drink in hand.

"I'm thinking," Damon corrected, exhaling smoke into the humid air.

"About what?" Kai asked, slipping a hand around a blonde’s waist.

Damon didn’t answer. Because he didn’t know.

Something felt off tonight. A shift in the air. A storm brewing in the distance.

And when the past finally walked through those doors, wearing a new face, carrying a name he hadn't spoken in years—Damon would realize that some wars never truly end.

They only wait.